Ardh-aang-ini, a tribute to all women
She was crying, clinging to her dad as if some unknown force was trying to snatch her away. She clutched at his shirt, unwilling to let go.
Eventually, she did step into my car, and we embarked on a journey together, which has not stopped for 30 years this day.
She came crying into my home and into my family, she put her trust in me and her destiny, and today she is in charge of my heart, my home, my family and all the keys!
It would belittle her to say that I love her – the phrase sounds so hollow, so juvenile – for that would mean she is someone else, external to me, while actually she is part of me; she is me, what is known in the English world as the better half, or in India as ardh-aang-ini.